


And You're the Sky

by uhpockuhlipz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhpockuhlipz/pseuds/uhpockuhlipz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't worry. My spirit will choose much better than that."<br/>"That's how your commander is chosen? Reincarnation?"</p><p>May we meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You're the Sky

She stares up the remains of the tower, crumbling now.

For a moment, she sees it still standing, tall and sturdy, a flame flickering at the top. But then she blinks and that’s gone, replaced once again by what it is. She wonders if she didn’t get enough sleep last night. 

For over a hundred years, the tower had stood as a home for the commander in the center of Polis, the capital the living created after the end of the world. But those are just stories now. Now it is ruins, and has been for over three hundred years.

She lifts her camera and snaps a picture. The tour is moving on, but she can’t seem to tear herself away. Though she’s never been here, has never even been to this side of the country, she can’t help but feel like she’s stood here before. “Weird,” she mumbles, shoving the camera into her back pocket before rubbing the chilled goosebumps from her arms.

“Clarke?”

The voice is so near that she finds herself turning, though it’s not her name being called. Clarke isn’t even close, and yet she finds herself searching anyway. For some reason, it feels vital that she find the speaker.

It’s another girl, and she smiles in confusion at her because it seems she is talking to her. She’s staring, her eyes wide and focused completely on her. It’s kind of disappointing that this is a case of mistaken identity because the girl is gorgeous. Like, knock-you-on-your-ass gorgeous. “Sorry,” she says with a shrug and just a hint of reluctance. “I’m not who you’re looking for.”

The girl steps closer, and she hasn’t lost that wide-eyed stare yet. It’s a little unnerving. “Not Clarke,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t seem embarrassed or disappointed by the misunderstanding. “What is your name now?” 

She lifts her eyebrows, shrugs, and offers her name. It seems harmless enough. “And you are?”

The girl’s eyes are flickering across her face now, drinking her in, and there’s so much intensity in them that she almost feels like she’s intruding on some intimate moment by standing there. Except that look is aimed at her and that is confusing too. 

“Lexa,” the girl says at last, and a hint of a smile curves her lips. “My name is Lexa.”

“Lexa,” she repeats, nodding slowly. She holds out a hand in greeting, offering a, “Nice to meet you, Lexa,” as she does so.

Lexa looks down at her offered hand, then up again. Her smile grows a fraction. When she reaches out, she doesn’t take her hand, but wraps her fingers around her forearm. When she automatically grips Lexa’s arm in turn, she frowns down at her hand as if it isn’t hers. 

Lexa only continues to watch her, that small smile in place. As she watches her, there is another flash, like there was with the tower. Flickering candles, a large wooden bed, the girl with a small gear on her forehead and her cheeks wet with tears. 

Another blink and it’s gone. Lexa is still standing there outside the ruins of Polis tower, holding her arm. There is nothing on her forehead and her dark hair is in a ponytail, not loose over her shoulder. She is smiling. There are no tears. 

“We meet again,” Lexa says, and the girl who is not Clarke blinks in confusion. She pulls her hand away, touching her fingers to her head as everything seems to spin.

“Lexa,” she says slowly. The visions keep swimming in and out. Lexa with warpaint on her face murmuring something she only catches snatches of (Not… you..). Lexa standing there now, watching her with those intense eyes. Lexa with her hair braided, expression vulnerable, holding out a pile of blank paper and a tin of charcoal. Lexa now, reaching out to steady her as she sways.

“What’s happening?” she whispers, closing her eyes tight.

“You were Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, hesitating before stroking her fingers against her cheek. For some reason she doesn’t understand, she doesn’t want to push Lexa away. “Now you have another name, but you are still her. Still you. I’ve looked for you in every lifetime.”

“Lexa,” she says again, her voice shaking. This girl is a stranger, and yet she knows her. This girl is from now, and yet she is not. What Lexa says is crazy, but she believes her. She has known this girl. She has loved this girl. She… 

She remembers. 

“You’ve found me.”


End file.
